


Life Goes On

by ramify



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Ableist Language, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Harmful words about mental health, Implied Sexual Content, Josh Washington Is Not a Wendigo, Josh Washington Lives, Josh Washington is Rescued, Josh is pansexual because i feel like he wouldnt care about gender, Medication, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Overdose, Post-Canon, Post-Lodge Prank Incident (Until Dawn), Post-Until Dawn (Video Game), Reconciliation, Recovery, Sexual Themes, medication abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-09-27 03:28:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20400928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ramify/pseuds/ramify
Summary: Life was not about to hand Josh any lemons. Instead, it would hand him a nice jalapeño pepper.Make some lemonade out of that, asshole, life would say.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story a little over two years ago and took it down because I was in a dark place when writing it. I decided now that I am recovering from alcoholism and in a better place, it would be a good thing to rewrite this. It seems only fitting that since this is a story about recovery and rebuilding relationships that I should rewrite it while I am doing those things as well. 
> 
> And yes, I still ship Sam/Patricia. Samtricia?

It was a mystery as to how long they planned to keep up the ridiculous charade. Day in and day out they pretended to care about him, and it would continue so long as his parents sent the institution fat stacks of green. It was entirely possible that it would never end and his permanent residence may just be with Chief for the rest of his life. He would assume the identity of R.P. McMurphy and when shit gets tough, Chief will split after sparing him the agony of having to live as a lobotomized patient. Nevermind that he wouldn’t qualify for a lobotomy and that they are rarely, if ever, performed in this day and age. 

He never liked hospitals. Didn’t like the smell or the taste of the food, and for how much his parents were shoveling out one would think that the food wouldn’t taste like soggy cardboard and wall plaster. It’s not like he ate much anyway due to the antipsychotics they had him on and the medication also made him feel as though everything was incredibly dull. If he felt like someone actually cared to hear his opinion about his situation, he would lay it on them, but they only wanted a paycheck. Sometimes a fresh-faced nursing student who hadn’t quite been exposed to the horrors of the world would be assigned to his unit and he knew they cared. He would break out of his daze to tell them that the seroquel put him in a soft, pink cloud and he often had no idea what day it was. 

Windows were distracting. He wondered what was going on out in the real world because he was certain that he must have died in the mines and this was hell. The institution was tucked away in a small corner of Alberta and surrounded by a thick forest. It reminded him of the forests surrounding the mines and it only furthered his suspicions that this was hell. Sometimes he forgot what he was doing or thinking, and moved onto something else to occupy his time. Other times he found himself somewhere he definitely shouldn’t be with no recollection of how he got there. He also couldn’t stop moving his mouth. He couldn’t stop clenching his jaw and swallowing the overwhelming amount of saliva building in his mouth. It was so distracting that it was the biggest cause for him to lose his train of thought. All side effects of the dozens of drugs being pumped into his system. Something for the anxiety (read: guilt), something for the facial tics, something to help him sleep, and seroquel for the real crazy lurking around the corner. The crazy was just waiting for him to stop popping pills, but by the look of things, they were going to keep him from doing just that. They had him under lock and key, and by that he meant that there were more locks on the doors than he could count and Nurse Ratched had swallowed all of the keys.

This didn’t actually upset him, but to be fair, the medications made him apathetic enough to not care about anything. If he thought about it hard enough, he was glad to have his demons locked away with the medications and nothing was following him anymore. The walls weren’t breathing, doors weren’t opening on their own, and the two tall figures he thought may have been Hannah and Beth weren’t following him anymore. What more could he ask for? Actually, that was a stupid question, moron. He wished he could go home. He never liked hospitals. Didn’t like the condescending tones or the group therapy sessions; if this really wasn’t hell, maybe death would come early to reap his soul and save him from every having to attend another group session. Unlikely, but he would remain hopeful. Somewhat. It’s not like he wanted to die, but he wasn’t opposed to it either.

“Joshua?”

He sucked in his bottom lip after he clenched his jaw to swallow the saliva building up. Sucking on his lip had been a dumb habit he developed before the medications and it chapped his lips. He looked up from his hands and noticed that everyone was staring at him. They were all sitting in an obnoxious circle; could circles be more annoying? The word was dumb enough as it is and made no sense; soft _ C _ followed by a hard _ C _? It was stupid and he thought it should both the same sound. 

“Joshua?”

When did he get here? It would make sense why he was thinking about group therapy and stupid _ circles _. He would never voluntarily think of it, no sir.

“Joshua?”

He lost track of his thoughts again. It was just too difficult to focus and he would rather be sleeping anyway. Why couldn’t he ever autopilot through these group orgies of feelings and thoughts? Well, that would just work out too well for him and life was not about to hand him any lemons. Instead it would hand him a nice jalapeño pepper. _ Make some lemonade out of that, asshole _ , life would say. No, he just had to unknowingly fall into situations that get him in trouble and he never had any excuse other than _ I have no idea what is going on right now _. It didn’t help that he was usually snapped from his daze whenever someone said, or yelled, his name.

Oh, right. Therapy, Josh.

“I, uh…” He glanced around at the group. They were all staring-- Well, most of them were. Some of them had fallen off their rockers into the pits of hell, and were too conked on medications to even understand how to wipe their own asses. “What was the question?”

Nurse Ratched clicked her tongue and shook her head softly with a smile. “Still adjusting to your new medications, I see.”

He didn’t know what to say so he looked down at his hands again. They were strange. Hands were very strange indeed. Ten whole digits, five pairs, all different sizes.

“Have you been writing in your journal?”

“Yes.” He lied.

“Have you really been writing in your journal?”

“No.” He truthed.

“You should, Joshua. It’s a part of the healing process.”

Josh shrugged. What did he need to heal from? He wasn’t in any pain and his brain was already broken beyond repair. Besides, he was the one who dealt the damage. No damage was done to him, per se. Yes, there was a prank that lead to his sisters deaths and yes, he’d been stuck in the mines for a little over a week before two rangers found him. Yes, both of these things were true, but he’d been broken long before that. Due to his very broken brain and his very broken sense of humor, he pulled a prank of his own. A little concoction of mental illness, misdiagnosis, and sweet revenge to create one nasty prank for all of his friends.

Friends? No, they weren’t friends anymore. He highly doubted that, but he would pretend they were until the day one of them came into the institution and told him otherwise. It would never happen and they wouldn’t even come in to yell at or pop him right in the kisser, so they would remain his friends. Maybe he should call them his not-friends.

“Why haven’t you written in your journal, Joshua?”

Oh, this was still a thing that was happening. He’d forgotten again, but he couldn’t find it in him to care at all. However, he did care that she kept saying his name over and over again, which he understood she did this to make sure he was paying attention and to indicate who she was talking to in the group. She should just stop. 

“I don’t know what to write, and uh, I don’t see the point in writing in a journal as an exercise of uh, growth or healing… or whatever.”

Nurse Ratched smiled, but it was obviously fake. Josh could spot a fake from a mile away and he just knew that she wanted to wring his skinny little neck; probably wanted to since day one, but how long ago was day one? If only she would just get on with it already. Josh wasn’t sure if he could handle another strained group session, but she remained in her seat with the fakest fake smile a faker could fake. It seems Washington would live another day.

“Would you at least give it a try tonight? You can write about anything you’d like.”

He didn’t have the energy to make a wisecrack about writing erotica starring Nurse Ratched and her tight ass, so he nodded his head in agreement. _ Yes, master. Smeagol will writes in the journal and he will talks shit about Gollum. _ Josh would gladly accept the role of a deranged and possibly schizophrenic hobbit, so long as he gets to keep his handsome face.

The next thing he knew he was in front of the TV in the recreational room, slouched on the uncomfortable and lumpy brown couch. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he was never really sure until he asked. Josh stood from the couch and shuffled over to the desk. Why was he going here again? Who was he going to talk to? The lady behind the desk looked up at him blankly and waited for him to speak. She wasn’t a liar or a faker and it was very clear that she did not like him. What had he ever done to her?

Oh wait. He vaguely remembered that autopilot had once crash landed him in her office. When he came to, he was holding a ceramic coffee mug in hand with some questionable liquid inside. She had scrambled to the far side of the room when she turned around from her desk and had spotted him, clearly thinking that he would use the mug as a weapon. She had said his name and that was what brought him back. Since he had first arrived to the institution, he was never quite sure what to do in those situations, so he casually commented about the weather and took a sip of whatever was inside the mug, which in hindsight was not a very good idea. 

“Did you need to know what day it was?” The nurse asked, bringing him back to reality. She didn’t even bother to open the window she was hiding behind. How very rude. Josh nodded his head. “It’s Monday, Josh.”

When was the last day he could remember? Had it been a big jump in time? He thought that group therapy had been on Friday, but he couldn’t be sure. He asked her what the date was.

She sighed. “It’s May third.” And to be even more rude she told him the year. 

Josh left her alone after expressing his dislike for her and walked aimlessly throughout the floor. There wasn’t anything to do and apparently an entire two days were missing from his memory. These new meds were certainly something else, but perhaps they figured the more doped up he was, the easier it would be to handle him. Nope, they didn’t want a psycho breaking out and terrorizing everyone including his friends, or not-friends.

He thought about his not-friends sometimes, but he thought about one not-friend in particular. Sam. Sammy. Sweet, little Sammy. He knew her since she was twelve and he loved her since she was twelve-and-a-half. Was that messed up? Was he breaking some sort of bro-code by falling in love with both of his sister’s best friend? Would it be called a sibling-code then? It had to be in the sibling handbook that someone neglected to give him: _ Rule #1) No funny feelings for your sister’s best friend _ followed by _ Rule #2) If you catch some feelings for your sister’s best friend, your dead sisters are allowed to haunt you for all eternity. _Well, he did catch some feelings for Sam, but it wasn’t like he ever made a move or said anything about it. Besides, it didn’t even matter anymore. All of his not-friends hated him and that included Sam. They all probably acted like they didn’t deserve the prank, but they definitely did.

“Have you thought about apologizing?”

He focused his eyes and realized he was sitting in his therapist’s office. Josh wasn’t sure when his appointment arrived, but he made it here on autopilot, so that was rather impressive. However, the more he thought about it, it was more likely that Nurse Ratched dragged him here with her mouth foaming. The woman in front of him was small and round, unlike the skeleton man who pretended to be his psychiatrist. She had been his therapist since he’d arrived at the institution in February, but he couldn’t place her name. Ever since the skeleton man had prescribed seroquel, he wasn’t as sharp and couldn’t remember the names of anyone new. Josh looked to the nameplate on her desk which read _ Dr. Patricia Kind _.

He looked back up at her. “What did you say?”

“Have you thought about apologizing?”

“To who?”

“Your friends--excuse me, your _ not-friends _. You seem pretty concerned about them.” So he had been speaking aloud. What all had he said to her?

Josh shook his head. “Can’t say that I have thought about it.”

“You haven’t even thought about apologizing to Sam?”

“Maybe.”

“If you have feelings for her, why would subject her to the prank?”

She did pose an interesting inquiry. Sam should have been in on the prank, rather than being subjected to it. She had a warped sense of humor and she had certainly been angry with their friends for what they had done to Hannah. Then again, Sam felt guilty for not trying hard enough to stop them, and somewhere just below the surface, Josh felt that she should feel guilty. She didn’t try hard enough.

“Why Sam?”

“She didn’t try hard enough.”

The thing he really liked about Dr. Kind, and something he never remembered until he was sitting in her office, was that she never looked at him like he just said that he wanted to give it a go at necrophilia. She never wrote in her clipboard during their sessions like his old therapist, but after she had received his consent, she started recording their sessions with a cheap camera. Any reason to smile for the camera, no matter the circumstances, Josh would take. They might even make a movie about him someday. 

“She didn’t take part…”

Josh cut her off. “Sam didn’t warn Hannah! She could have warned her!”

Dr. Kind didn’t flinch at his outburst. She smiled even, and told Josh to sit back down. He hadn’t even realized that he jumped up from his seat. “Do you think, perhaps, that you are upset with yourself?”

He scowled. Dr. Kind was not being very kind at the moment. “Are you saying it’s my fault?”

She shook her head. “No, not at all. I think that you blame yourself and are using Sam as an outlet. Do you blame yourself?”

Yet another interesting inquiry. It does make sense and not a lot of things in his life make sense. The voices had been relentless that night and he self-medicated. He drank himself into a coma that would make Ottis Campbell proud, one that resulted in the hangover of the century that he couldn’t properly nurse because e woke up to find out that his sisters were missing all night. It truly is a wonderful life.

_ Crazed lunatics for $1000, please, Mr. Trebek. _

_ This person blames himself for drinking a fifth of Jameson all to himself in order to shut Captain Howdy the hell up, rendering him completely incapable of helping his siblings and resulting in their tragic deaths. _

_ Who is Josh Washington? _

Ding ding ding! _ Looks like we have a winner! _

“Josh?”

“I blame myself.” He had never said it aloud, but now that he had, he just wishes he could fade to the black of autopilot. Maybe everything would have worked out better if he never existed in the first place.

Dr. Kind sighed and leaned forward to gently shake Josh’s knee, meant to be a reassuring gesture, but he did not find any comfort in it. “It’s not your fault, Josh. These things, however tragic, happen.”

He scoffed and grit his teeth, clenching his jaw tightly. She leaned back in her chair and neatly placed her hands into her lap.

“Mrs. Fletcher tells me that you still have not written in your journal.” It suddenly made sense why he picked One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest as his theme; that evil woman shared the same last name as Louise Fletcher, who portrayed Nurse Ratched in the movie. Even when he was looney toons, Josh was still pretty sharp. “Still there?”

“I am physically present. Can’t really do much about that, unless I decided to just get up and skip right out of the room, but that may hurt your feelings.” He was too tired to crack a smile. It was supposed to be a joke, but it came out sounding dry. She didn’t seem to care.

“So you haven’t written in your journal?”

“Nope.”

“Is there something that bothers you about that exercise?”

Josh sighed. “I just don’t know what to write.”

“I could give you a list of prompts.”

“That doesn’t interest me in the slightest.”

“How about you write to your friends? Explain yourself and how their prank made you feel. Why you ended up doing what you did.”

Josh laughed, but it didn’t sound like a real laugh. Just a loud, throaty _ HA _ that bounced off the walls and right back at him. “What’s the point? They would never read it.”

“This is an exercise for you, not your friends.”

“What good would it do if they aren’t able to read it?”

“You could learn new things about yourself. You could better understand why you did this…”

He cut her off again. “I know why I did it.”

“Some of your friends were not involved the night Hannah and Beth went missing, and you still chose to include them.” Sam. Chris. “You may know why you did it, but there might be more to it, Josh.”

Well, this was going nowhere fast. He decided to just put it outright. “I don’t want to write in a stupid journal.”

“What do you want to do? You are going to have to do something in order to make progress. You can’t sulk forever.”

She was always coming up with something else. If she weren’t so incredibly frustrating, Josh might be grateful she hasn’t given up and was always trying to accommodate him. He rolled his jaw that was getting sore from the grinding and scoffed again before looking at the camera. He liked to look at it during their sessions and wondered what he looked like in the footage. Did he look like a complete basket case? Would the viewer be unnerved by Josh’s sudden attention to the camera as if he knew who was on the other side? Of course, he didn’t know. He wasn’t psychic, just psycho.

Josh laughed at his thoughts.

“What’s funny?”

He kept his gaze on the camera for a moment longer before dismissively waving his hand at Dr. Kind and leaned back in the chair. He could really go for a nap right now. Dr. Kind was quiet for a moment and when she finally spoke, Josh realized he nearly fell asleep in the chair. Her words shot his eyes right open and he wore a heavy frown at the disturbance. “What if you made a video for them?”

“A video? I don’t think they would appreciate that considering the last video I made for them.”

“This would be a video we could potentially approve for them to see. They would know it is safe to watch.”

_ Safe to watch. _It didn’t settle right in his chest and despite him really thinking they deserved his prank, he didn’t like that his not-friends were afraid of him. He didn’t like that they hated him. Well, Josh didn’t know that for certain, but he could only assume. They had to hate him. They would be as crazy as him if they didn’t.

“You know, Dr. Brodsky, that just might be a good idea.” Except this was nothing like a Clockwork Orange and he was just entertained by the idea of his not-friends being strapped to chairs with their eyes taped open as they were forced to watch the video he made. Should he really call them his not-friends if he was humored by the idea of torturing them? Hey! Torturing them with lame jokes and weak apologies. It’s not like he actually wants to hurt them. He loved them, oddly enough.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am rewriting all of the chapters, so this may seem familiar at some points to those who have read it before. There are things I am adding and reworking so it flows better. I originally wrote this story while I was drinking so there are some issues with the original story.
> 
> I have about eight chapters to rewrite and once I catch up, the updates will be less frequent. I am hoping that the posting schedule will be on a weekly basis, but it take more or less depending on how inspired I am.

_ Ashley, I’m sorry that I hit you. _

_ Chris, I’m sorry that I made you choose. _

_ Jessica, I’m sorry that I split the group up. _

_ Mike, fuck you. I’m not sorry for shit. _

_ Emily, I’m sorry that you had to seek out help. _

_ Matt, I’m sorry that you were pulled into this. _

_ Sam, I’m sorry that I blame you for everything. _

_ Hannah and Beth, I’m sorry I couldn’t have prevented all of this. _

Dr. Kind spent a long time looking over the list before she finally set it down on the desk. Josh knew she had reread it several times and he could tell which apology she was on by the expression on her face. He was certain that she was displeased with his apology to Mike because she looked up from the paper and narrowed her eyes on him for a moment before she went back to reading.

“This is a big step for you, Josh, but are you certain you don’t have anything better to say to Mike?”

Josh pressed back further in his chair and scowled. “How about, _ sorry you thought it would be funny to fuck with my sister’s emotions and now she is dead? _ No, ma’am. That’s as good as it’s going to get for douchebag Mike.”

She crossed her legs and placed a hand on her knee, tapping her index finger. Her blue eyes were like lasers, drilling a hole right through him. He remained stoic as she tried to read his expression and he kept his scowl firm on his face despite the urge to grind his teeth. Damn these facial tics, but he would stay strong. Good luck, Professor X. “Is it your intention to make him feel worse than he most likely already feels?”

Josh shrugged his shoulders.

“And Sam? She didn’t partake in any of the events leading to the disappearance of Hannah and Beth, but I can imagine she already blames herself. An apology for blaming her is nice, but it could hurt her further.”

He knew that. He already knew that. Josh just needed to blame someone, anyone but himself. It was the cowards way out, but he knew that he was one at heart. He blamed everyone but himself and he never made a move toward Sam because he was a coward. There were so many opportunities and he knew that she had a crush on him because Hannah couldn’t keep her big mouth shut. When the words fell from her mouth, she struggled to catch and put them back, but the damage had already been done. Josh knew about the crush that Hannah had sworn to keep a secret and his heart felt like it was going to break through his chest. He had thought of all the possibilities, but in the end, he did nothing.

“Josh?” He lost himself in the past again and he was surprised that he was still in a session with his therapist. “You and Sam were close. How do you think it will make her feel to hear that you blame her?”

Josh threw his hands up in the air and glared at Dr. Kind. “Enough with other people’s feelings, Dr. Feelgood. I’m your patient, not them!”

Dr. Kind cleared her throat and pursed her lips. Today’s session was not going well for her, it seems. Maybe she was having a bad day; probably walked in on her husband sleeping with another woman, oh no! Or perhaps it was a man! What a prude; it’s 2015, Patricia, everybody is bisexual or gay.

“You should care about other people’s feelings. At some point these people were your friends…”

“And now they are my not-friends,” he interrupted to add

“I am sure some, if not all, of your not-friends would be willing to listen to you. It is not in your best interest to hold onto grudges.”

Jesus, when would she shut up? “OK, fine. I will fix it later.” He held out his hand for the piece of paper and she passed it over her desk to him.

“Are you willing to talk about the mines yet?” One thing after another. Man, she really was in a bad mood. Maybe she walked in on an orgy her husband was hosting, one that she wasn’t invited to. Who the hell knows?

The mines. He tried not to think about it too often, but when he was alone in his room at night, he took comfort in the soft glow of the hallway light peering through the window of his door. The screams of certain psychotic patients seemed to be even louder at night and it made it harder to not think about the mines, but at least those screams sounded human. They said he was down there for a week before they finally found him, but he doesn’t remember being found. Apparently he had been in such a deep state of psychosis that he attacked the rangers who found him and even bit one before they were able to restrain him. He does remember being so very hungry and that he had been so close to doing the unthinkable. His stomach churned at the thought, twisting tightly like a wet rag, trying to wring out the stomach acid that was unsettled inside.

“Joshua?”

He’d been doing so well, had been focused, but sometimes he still drifted away; still found himself in the faculty break room or another patient’s room. Sometimes he raked his nails up and down his arms during his blackouts, leaving open sores that immediately put him on suicide watch the moment a nurse spotted them. They might as well declaw him at this point, but instead the nurses simply clipped his nails down to nubs. They would ask him why he had done it and if pain was a release for him. Although the blackouts could he jarring, they provided him with the comfort that he didn't always have to face himself or what he had done. He was afraid that the skeleton psychiatrist would change his medication once he learned of the blackouts, so Josh told the nurses that he scratched himself for the pain. This could very well be true as he didn't know what was going on in his mind during his blackouts, so he wasn't technically lying.

“Joshua?”

“I’m sorry. I really don’t want to talk about the mines.”

“The mines?” It wasn’t Dr. Kind. No, it was Nurse Ratched. He looked around to see that he was once again in the dread circle of feelings and past trauma. Time had jumped again. It seemed to happen whenever he was anxious. Or bored. Or tired. Or whenever, really. It wasn’t an exact science.

“I, uh, yeah. I don’t really want to talk right now.”

“You haven’t talked in group for a week now.”

Apparently autopilot had soared him through an entire week this time. Blacking out, Josh Washington style; completely bonkers and heavily medicated. He shook his head. “Sorry. I don’t want to talk.”

“Maybe we should talk about the mines since they seem to be on your mind.”

“I said I don’t want to talk right now.” His tone was sour.

Nurse Ratched's mouth looked like a tight knot as if she ate the other half of the lemon Josh had eaten, but moved onto the next member of the group. She seemed to learn pretty fast that Josh would _ not _be doing anything he didn’t want to do, and there was nothing she could do to convince him otherwise. Not many people knew how to control him. There were only three people who had mastered the art of controlling him like a puppet; two were dead and the other hated his guts. If Sam were here, she would know what to do. She would know how to get him to talk in groups and participate in games.

Sam.

Sam.

Sammy.

He really should have kissed her on the Fourth of July three years ago. She was right there, within kissing distance, all he had to do was lean over. They were all alone on the deck that wrapped around her house while everyone else sat on their blankets that scattered the lawn. He had looked over at her as the sky lit up with fireworks that reflected in her blue eyes and her golden hair glowed with each explosion. Sam must have realized that he was staring because she turned to him with a smile on her face, but it soon faded into a smirk as she asked him what his problem was. He could have kissed her, he really should have. She definitely had some sort of look in her eyes, something like _ kiss me already, you idiot. _Josh just gave her a playful shove and told her that she was, in fact, his problem. An idiot was he.

He really should have kissed her when they went to the cabin Emily’s parents owned at Big Pine Island. She challenged him to a race across the narrowest part of the lake, all one hundred feet of it. He insisted that it was a tie, despite the fact that Sam had definitely beat him. She tackled him into the shallow waters after he made a comment about how she swam like a dead goldfish, and then she was on top of him. Their wet flesh pressed firmly against each other and he remembered how the feel of her stomach caused his breathing to waver. She gave him that look again as she licked her lips and their eyes were locked, like the sky hovering over the earth. Really, he would have kissed her if it were not for Chris screaming like a little girl in the distance (later they would learn that Mike was chasing him with a rotting dead fish). Really, he would have. No, that was a lie. He would have chickened out.

He really should have kissed her during the last movie night they all had together before Hannah and Beth disappeared. The twins had fallen asleep on the floor only a quarter of the way through the movie; Hannah first and shortly after Beth finally stopped fighting the weights on her eyelids. Sam made a joke about how the Washington family was so desensitized to slasher flicks that they could sleep through any trauma, but Josh could tell that the movie Beth had picked out wasn’t sitting well with Sam. She made another joke about being a scaredy-cat and Josh patted the cushion next to him with a smirk on his face to which Sam rolled her eyes, but she did move from the floor to the couch. Halfway through the movie Sam was curled up in his side with her head resting on his shoulder, and when the killer dealt a particularly gruesome death to an unsuspecting victim, she buried her face into his neck. He couldn’t recall a single movie night that she needed to curl up next to anyone or hide her face, much less him, but he reasoned that she didn't care for violence; fictional, or not. It couldn't be because she actually wanted to press her body against him, but that's exactly what it was. When the movie was over, they talked for an hour and she gave him that look again. He could have kissed her, but he chickened out once again and this time he didn’t have an excuse. The signs were clearly there; big, flashing, neon signs that said _ COME ON MAKE A MOVE ON ME. _

There were plenty of times that Josh should have kissed Sam, but he never did. What had he been so afraid of? He knew she had a crush on him since she first met him, but it was simply just a crush. If she wanted something more, he reasoned that she couldn't expect him to make the first move. That brought up another dilemma: what would he have done if she had been the one to make the first move? He could only guess that he would have pushed her and ran away. For all the sexual jokes and flirtations he had thrown her way, Josh had not been, and he guessed he would never be able to man up. Given the opportunity to go back, he wasn’t sure if he would be able to do it. Maybe if he had kissed her, things would have ended up differently.

He realized that he was sitting at his desk in his room with the list of halfhearted apologies in front of him. These jumps in time were rather jarring. He really thought he had been doing better and that perhaps he was getting used to the medication, but that didn’t really seem to be the case, the more he thought about it. At least he seemed to be aware of his promises and appointments when he blacked out. He looked over the list and thought about how he could elaborate and make the halfhearted apologies less shitty. Everyone deserved a better apology was what Dr. Kind had told him and that did include Mike. Josh still felt like he didn’t deserve anything but a swift kick to the gonads, one that would render his family jewels out of commission. However, Dr. Kind said that he should care about other people’s feelings (even douchebag Mike). He did say that he would work on his apologies and if he wanted to keep his not-friends (even douchebag Mike), then he would have to do a better job. 

Perhaps a start would be to not call Mike a douchebag, but he wasn’t there quite yet. Hell, he may never get there if he was being honest with himself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam will be arriving in the next chapter. It is unknown when (or if) the others will show up.

Swallowing fear was like drinking milk; it might be spoiled and if it was, it goes down thick and chunky, threatening to come right back up. Josh drank his fair share of spoiled milk when he lived on college campus before he dropped out, and he attested that swallowing fear was very much like drinking spoiled milk. However, instead of a fridge in front of him, it was a camera. Dr. Kind (he was very certain that her name was Dr. House, but the name plate said otherwise) had been battling with her superiors to allow Josh to record his apology, so he couldn’t back down unless he really wanted to look like an asshole after all the effort she had put in. If he was too afraid to drink the metaphorical milk because it might be spoiled , he may as well strut backwards out of her office with both middle fingers pointed in her direction; or maybe some other rude hand gestures.

The last time he wielded a camera, he was traumatizing his not-friends and now his therapist was directing a new pretentious film featuring Joshua Washington, the psycho. It was time to pour his soul out. He looked down at the list in his shaking hands. They wouldn’t stop shaking. The camera wasn’t even on and he was sweating bullets. Since when was he camera shy? 

“Are you ready, Josh?” Dr. Kind was sitting across from him, next to the camera. He wished they were in her office and her table was between them to make her less intimidating. Strange, cameras and directors were now intimidating. Like a stupid dog who had been caught rolling in shit, he froze and couldn’t form a proper response. “Josh?”

“I’m a dumb dog.”

“What do you mean?”

“Dogs don’t know how to talk and I’ve been rolling around in shit.”

“Did you still want to do this?”

Did he? Would his not-friends even watch this or was this just a therapeutic exercise for himself? He knew a better therapeutic exercise for himself and it involved a few minutes with his right hand. He could definitely last longer than a few minutes, but when masturbating, the only person he had to please was himself. _ I would rather be masturbating right now _; one hundred dollars says there is a shirt out there that says exactly that.

“I guess I have to do this after all the trouble you went through for crazy ol’ me.”

“If you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to.”

Josh waved a hand at her. “Let’s get this over with.”

“You remember the rules? You may speak your mind, but you are not to antagonize. Express your feelings, but contain your anger.” Oxymorons, all of them they were. Yoda was he.

He waved his hand once more, muttering _ yeah, yeah, whatever _. “I’m ready. Come on.”

Josh rolled his eyes and sighed as he waited for her to turn the camera on. It was a different camera than the one she used for their sessions and she seemed to struggle with turning it on. She fiddled with it for a while and he wondered what was taking her so long. It’s just a couple of buttons. He knew how to use a camera by the time he was six-years-old, but maybe that was just a perk of being a filmmaker’s child. He’d been making short films since he learned how to operate a camera because he was a dumb kid who looked up to his dumb dad. There was one film his father actually helped him with; Josh had titled it _ the Chatter Monster _. They spent weeks working on the props and only a few days working on the actual filming.

“Are you alright, Josh?”

He focused his eyes on her. His mind had wandered off again. At least he was still here and time hadn’t gotten away from him, but the more he thought about it, he wished autopilot had taken ahold of him, bringing him to his room. _ I would rather be masturbating _. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“The camera is on. You can start whenever you are ready.”

It was very unlike himself to avoid looking at the camera, but the very idea of his not-friends possibly watching this gave him the heebie-jeebies. Instead he looked at each name on the list in his hands and thought about how they would react to this video. It would most likely not be the reaction he was hoping for. All he could think about was how they might as well be in the room with him right now and how he wished they would just start screaming at him. What a strange idea, but the more he thought about it, the more he wanted them to be there and tell him how they felt about him. Anything to validate his hatred for himself. When did he get so emo?

Josh clenched his jaw and swallowed a load of saliva. He did it again and then another time, but by the fourth time he realized what he was doing and that his not-friends would notice the facial tic. How long had it been since Dr. Kind turned on the camera? Why was he stalling? Why was he so afraid of the cheap camera?

“Ashley.” His voice cracked when he finally spoke. He cleared his throat before clenching his jaw and swallowing again. Josh was very aware he was doing this, but he just couldn’t stop himself. He tried to relax his face, but he did it again. “Hey, Ashley. I am sorry. I really shouldn’t have put any of you guys through this, and, uh, I shouldn’t have hurt you. I just wasn’t expecting to be stabbed, but then again, uh, maybe I should have expected you to defend yourself. I am really sorry I punched you in the face.”

He looked down at the list. There were only six names left, but the list seemed like it was a mile long. He swallowed again and thought that maybe it happened more often when he was agitated or nervous, but it happened all the fucking time so maybe that theory was bunk. His hands were trembling now.

“Take as much time as you need.”

“And Chris… Jeez, man. You are my best not-friend. That’s what I have been calling you guys, _ not-friends _because I figure you don’t want to be my friends anymore. I am so sorry. I just, uh, you shouldn’t have had to choose. It was fucked up and I have no excuse. Man, something about a traumatic experience bringing you and Ashley together. I don’t know. I don’t know what I was thinking. I mean, I clearly wasn’t thinking straight and, uh, I am just a crazy psycho. I just…” He stared blankly at the piece of paper in his hands. This was much harder than he thought it would be. Well, he expected it to be difficult, but it ended up being extremely difficult. Why did he think this would be a good idea?

“It’s OK, Josh.” Would she just shut the fuck up?

“I need a moment.”

Dr. Kind leaned over and fiddled with the camera trying to find the button. Josh watched her with frustration, opening and closing his mouth before finally telling her it was most likely the red button. “Cheap cameras usually have red buttons. Well, all cameras have red buttons, but the cheap ones have an especially red button.”

Once she turned off the camera, Josh felt his stomach twisting even tighter than before, it was so violent that he thought he may throw up. He couldn’t recall what he had eaten before this, but he couldn’t imagine anything from this place would feel good coming back up; it was hard enough to force it down. This was not going very well. He was not doing well at all, just stumbling over his words and rambling on as if they would actually care enough to watch this video. He didn’t think they cared about him, but he hoped they would care about their anger towards him. Was there a point to this? Would it help him? Would this help them? Wait, did he actually still care about his not-friends and what they thought of him?

“You are doing very well.” Not fucking likely.

He ignored her. They had deserved it, right? They all deserved what he gave them, yeah. That’s what he would tell himself. Why was he so worried about what they thought? Why was he so worried whether or not his not-friends wanted to be his regular friends?

“I’m having a dilemma, Dr. Dre.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I feel like they should hate me and I keep telling myself that I am OK with that. I want them to be angry with me, but I’m worried.”

“I can imagine.”

“They might not care about me anymore.”

“That is definitely a possibility.” Some shrink she was.

He was too worked up to shoot her a glare. He hardly realized that there were tears building up in his eyes until he couldn’t see and they were falling onto the piece of paper he held so tightly onto. “I don’t know what to say to them. I don’t know if I am even sorry.”

She leaned back in her chair and then leaned forward, placing a gentle hand on his knee. “I think you do know whether you are sorry or not.”

Josh watched as she shook his knee before pulling her hand back. “I guess I don’t know how to tell them how sorry I am.”

“You are doing a great job. Whenever you need a break, you just let me know, but you are doing so well.”

He nodded his head and told her to turn the camera back on. She did just as he wiped away the tears. Great, now his not-friends would see him crying. “Can you edit that out?”

“I’ll see what I can do about it, but as you can probably already tell, I don’t know much about cameras and editing film.” He could very much tell. It was glaringly obvious.

“I can do it.”

“How about we worry about that later?”

Josh swallowed again and rubbed his forehead before running his fingers through his hair. It had gotten longer, more unruly and unkempt in his time at the hospital. He usually had the sides trimmed down to a buzz with a curly length on top, but it had grown out and most likely looked like a messy mop. The hospital did not even allow him a razor to keep himself clean shaven, not that he would have cared enough to do it. On the days he felt particularly grimey, they allowed him an electric razor under supervision that left him with stubble. He was certain that he looked like a psychotic mess and perhaps his not-friends would enjoy the apology video if only to see him in such a state. How long had he actually been there? He lost track with the blackouts, but the last time he checked, it was May.

Next on his list was Jessica. He had unintentionally put her in harm's way, but he wasn’t sure what had happened to her. Mike thought Josh had killed her, and all he knew beyond that was that she was alive, but came out bloody and scarred. There was something about a maniac on the mountain, a different maniac than Josh.

“I’m not really sure what happened to you, Jess, but I am sorry that you got hurt. I’m sorry that I broke up the group and sent you to the cabin with Mike.” That was all he had to say to her so he moved on. “And Mike, I… Man, you were my friend and I am still angry with you for… Well, you know what I am mad about, but, uh, maybe I should have talked to you about that instead of getting so trigger happy with a revenge prank. This isn’t much of an apology, but that’s all I have for you.”

Dr. Kind didn’t turn off the camera during his Michael Munroe segment, so he had something going for him. Maybe he was saying the right things after all. It was all very possible that this would never be seen by anyone, and she was just fluffing him up for a therapeutic exercise.

“Em-- I mean Emily. Em is reserved for friends only, right?” He forced a smile at the weak joke and he knew his smile was wrong, probably too crooked and wide. It probably didn’t help that he wasn’t looking into the camera lense and staring at a painting on the wall above it. “You had to seek out help because of me, and somehow you got hurt. Matt got hurt too. I am sorry for being the asshole of the century and putting you in a situation where you got hurt.”

Sam was next, and he furrowed his brow as he read the apology that followed her name. There was no point to this. Apologizing wasn’t going to fix anything. Sam would still hate him; they would all still hate him, but Sam would hate him the most. 

Josh cleared his throat and finally looked into the camera. “There is no point to this. I can’t do it. Nothing I say will fix anything.”

“Do you need a break?”

He groaned and looked up at the ceiling. He didn’t care if the camera was still on. “What is the point of this? No one is going to feel better after hearing me spouting off bullshit, and that’s exactly what it is: bullshit. It’s not going to take back what I did, or bring Hannah and Beth back. It’s not going to take back anything that happened the past two years. They all fucked over my sisters and they abandoned me and I fucked them over.”

She didn’t bother with turning off the camera. Maybe she should turn it off if she actually did plan on showing his not-friends the footage, and he doubted that she would let him edit it. “Sam deserves an apology.”

He blinked away the tears and shook his head in anger. “Turn the fucking camera off.”

The coward. Always hiding, always running, always chickening out.

Dr. Kind leaned over and turned the camera off with ease this time. She sat back in her chair and folded her hands in her lap. “Why stop at Sam?”

He shrugged. “I always stop at Sam.”

“Why is that?”

Josh threw his arms up in the air more dramatically than he intended before dropping them to his thighs. “Why is the sky blue or the grass green?”

“Do you have feelings for her?”

“I don’t know. Does a bear shit in the woods?”

He could tell that he was getting on her nerves even if she didn’t show it. He was good at getting on people’s nerves, crawling right under their skin like a gnarly scabies rash.

“I don’t want to do this anymore. Delete it.” He didn’t care how much effort she had put into making this a thing. It wasn’t going to fix anything. Fuck her. Fuck her and fuck Sam and fuck everyone else.

Dr. Kind must be thinking not so kind things, probably something along the lines of what an ungrateful little shit he was, or maybe that she should just give up her career and join the peace corps. _ Screw this nutcase _, she was most definitely thinking.

“Fine. I’ll see you next week.”

Josh’s chair scraped along the floor as he stood up. He didn’t think twice about his decision before leaving the room and slamming the door behind him. There were two things in life that he was going to live by: 1) fuck apologies, and 2) fuck the police.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please check out this drawing I made of [our boy](https://www.instagram.com/p/B1xu9HRJ2Bz/?igshid=shw15diqoim9). You should also check out some of my other art. I was thinking about making a cute picture of Sam and Josh.

Josh seemed to have let go completely, and was now spiraling downward into a dark place. He might as well be back in the mines with how dark it was. Autopilot seemed to have completely taken hold of him, and now he only got a few snippets of consciousness in between. Maybe it was some sort of defense mechanism. His brain was protecting him from himself, or whatever psychological bullshit his skeleton psychiatrist and Dr. Wonder Breasts would say, but he wouldn’t know. Sure, he may have been physically present at his private sessions, but he couldn’t actually recall seeing his psychiatrist or therapist in a very long time. At least, not since they tried to film his empty apologies to his not-friends.

However grateful he may be about it, these black outs were doing a number on him and it was rather jarring to catch his reflection in the mirror when he was mentally present. His hair had gotten so long it hung in his eyes and a beard had grown out that was an inch long. If both were enough to startle him, he couldn’t imagine how the people around him felt looking at him, but he didn’t really care what they thought. He would stare into the mirror until he was sucked back into the void. So be it. It’s not like he had anything better to do. No places to go, no places to be, no very important meetings to attend. One moment he’d be walking across the room to the window, and the next he’d be standing outside on the basketball court, like he was doing right now. How cliché that they had one. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing though, and it made him feel more like Jack Nicholson. Who wouldn’t want to be good old Jackie boy?

He stared up at the sky as he stood in the middle of the court. The other patients were playing around him, and the ones who were more down to earth shouted at him to get out of the way along with other obscenities. Josh realized that, yeah, he was being an asshole and that he was in the way of their very important game that wasn’t really a game. They were clearly basketball stars and he was impeding on their stardom while the clock was ticking. There was an idiot to his left that was traveling with the ball and Josh yelled at him to _ fucking dribble the ball, you fucker. _ One of the other patients shoulder-checked him and Josh stumbled off the court.

Something gold caught his attention, which was really saying something. Unless it was some nutcase screaming continuously in his ear or throwing the nearest object they could find at him, there weren’t many things that could snap him out of it these days. Not even Dr. Watson or Nurse Ratched could get through to him, and those two were the most annoying fucks he’d ever had the displeasure of meeting. Another flash of gold beyond the fence broke him from his distracting thoughts; wavy and thick hair blowing in the wind, snapping wildly around enough to remind him of a field of wheat. Even from a distance, he could see those blue eyes and suddenly he couldn’t breathe because he was drowning in the deepest of seas.

It couldn’t be, it really couldn’t be. This had to be some sort of trick his mind was playing on him and maybe they had accidentally given him the wrong meds that morning. He hadn’t had a hallucination since they put him on seroquel and there was no other reason why he was seeing things that weren’t there. He didn’t dare move, fearing that the hallucination off in the distance would become aware that he was looking at it. When it made eye contact with him, he realized it was time to run. _ Run! _ His mind was screaming at him. _ Be the fucking coward that you are and always will be! Run! _

Finally he was able to do just that. One step back, followed by another, and then one more, until he was whirling around and losing his footing. His clumsy legs and feet had not faced this type of action in a long time and they seemed to be disconnected from his body. He stumbled for a moment and his knee slammed into the pavement below him before he scurried off. There weren’t many options of places to hide, and really, when had hiding ever helped when dealing with a hallucination? It had to be a hallucination because Sam would most definitely not be here of all places. Her living nightmare, _ Hi, it’s me Josh _ , resided in this building. Josh, who expected it to open immediately, ran into the door face first and struggled to open it until it buzzed. The lock clicked and he forced himself inside. _ Right, locked doors. Can’t have mental patients actually getting back into the looney bin. _ A nurse scolded him for running-- _ Slow down, Josh, _ she said. He didn’t listen, just kept going and going until he couldn’t anymore.

Josh found himself in another patient’s room and slammed the door, leaning against it to catch his breath for a moment. Realizing that he didn’t have time to catch his breath, he looked frantically around the room before his eyes landed on the dresser and he strained himself to push it in front of the door. Spending an undetermined amount of time in the hospital while having difficulty keeping down food and having little to no exercise will cause you to have weak noodle arms. He had a tough time carrying the nightstand with his weak noodle arms over to the dresser before setting it on top. To finish the barricade, he grabbed both pillows from the bed and threw them onto the pile of furniture-- why the hell weren’t these heavy pieces of furniture bolted to the floor? A patient could, for example, barricade themselves in a room with a dresser and nightstand. Well, his parents were spending a lot of money on this very high class institution so he could feel like he was at home and bolts on furniture would not make someone feel at home, but neither did the uncomfortable and lumpy brown couch in the recreational room.

He was finally able to catch his breath and shit, he was winded. He felt like he was going to hurl and all that came from it were harsh, painful dry heaves as he realized that his time had come. The gruesome reaping of Josh Washington was nigh. It wasn’t long before the shadow people came knocking, and from the other side of the door, they were bargaining with him. _ Come out, _ they said. _ Your time has come. It is time to die. _ Well, actually, what they really said was that this was not his room and he needed to come out because it was against policy for patients to be in each other’s rooms. However, Josh had an inkling suspicion that they were shadows posing as orderlies just to trick him. A tiny, but incessant voice in his head told him to just give up and be rational, but how could he be rational when he hallucinated Sam? 

“What is he doing in there? Oh, get out of the way! Josh? What are you doing?” Dr. Cox (he was pretty sure that’s what her name was) called from the other side of the door. Was it really her? It could be another trick.

“Oh, you know… Some crazy fuck hired me of all people to redecorate their room. I am wondering how a nice puke green would look on the south wall.” If it was really his therapist, he couldn’t tell her that he was hallucinating again. They would throw him into the looney bin if he did! Oh, wait…

“Josh, I am going to need you to come out right now.”

Well, he couldn’t stay in there forever, or maybe he could. He was more worried about needing to use the bathroom instead of the need to consume food.

“Josh, Sam is waiting for you.” Now he knew this wasn’t really his therapist because how could she know about his hallucination? Clearly, this was a shadow posing as a therapist.

“Stop fucking with me!” 

“I am not, Josh. It took me a while to get ahold of her, but once I did, she was more than willing to come in to see you.”

“This isn’t a trick?” He said it a little too quietly, almost as though he had lost his voice.

“A trick? Why would it be a trick?”

“Why would you call Sam?”

“We talked about this in our last session and you agreed to see her if I reached out to her.”

Sam was here. She was really here. Sweet relief. He couldn’t recall agreeing to see her, but he didn’t doubt that he had done it during an autopilot session. His heart soared like it was trying to fly right up his throat, but he couldn’t convince himself to come out of the room. He wanted to see her, but he couldn’t face her, not now. Even if he thought she was a hallucination a few moments ago (_ and she still could be _, he reminded himself), he had run away the moment he saw her. He couldn’t bear to see the disappointment painted on her face.

“I don’t want to see her.”

To say that Dr. Cox (that was her name, right?) was simply appalled would be an understatement. “What? Why not?” Her voice was getting high pitched and he could almost see the look on her face, like someone had taken a shit right in front of her. “Josh, this could help you.”

He could tell that she was keeping her anger in check. A stupid smile crept on his face as he thought about being the undoing of her sanity. Surely she would become a recluse, hiding out in some cabin hundreds of miles away from civilization all because Josh had really been that big of a cunt.

“I don’t care if it could help me. I don’t want to see her.”

There was a long pause before she finally spoke. “Fine. You don’t have to see her, but you really do have to come out.”

“I’m not ready to come out,” he declared.

His therapist told them to open the door and Josh laughed until suddenly the door was swinging open the opposite way; his barricade had been all for nothing. Fine, whatever, fair enough. He was done fighting. He watched as the orderlies moved the furniture and then walked toward him cautiously, but they were taking too long so he walked up to them with a swagger that suggested that he hadn’t just metaphorically shit himself and ran away from the girl he loved. The two men mean-mugged him something fierce and Dr. Cox (seriously, that had to be it) had a hard gaze on him. 

“You’re going to have to serve a few hours of solitary confinement.”

“Sure, I’ll serve my nickel--no, how many cents would a few hours be? I’ll serve an eighth of a penny.”

She held up her hand and walked away. Apparently she would not be putting up with him anymore today. “I am going to tell sam that her visit today was for nothing.”

“Tell her I’m sorry.” He didn’t even know why he said it because he knew what she would say in response.

She stopped abruptly and turned to face him. “I am not going to. That is your job, not mine, Joshua.” So she was going to throw in the full name card like some scolding parent. Well, fuck her then.

He grinned at the two men that grabbed his arms. “Be gentle with me, guys. This is my first time. Will it hurt?” They lead him to a familiar room and he sat on the mat on the ground once the door was closed. Alone with his thoughts, two hands, and a mouth full of an overwhelming amount of saliva. Whatever shall he do?

As if on cue, the beautiful, yet terrifying image of Sam standing just outside the fence of the basketball court appeared in his mind. Sam, Sam, Sammy.

Why had she come here? Jesus, it just made no sense. He still could hardly believe that she was actually there and it wasn't just a hallucination. Although, once he thought about it, she was standing just outside her car—that ugly little eco-friendly box on wheels. He highly doubted that her car would appear along with her if it was all in his mind. No, his hallucinations weren't _ that _ elaborate. She must have spotted him once she got out of the vehicle. He must have been a real sight, standing there with a wild mop of hair, a lengthy beard, and in the clothes that hadn't been washed in God knows how long—especially as he ran away from her like she was some monster. _ The Sammy Monster _, he didn't want to face it's wrath.

Dr. Kind had called her, and she was more than willing to see him apparently. Why was that? Why would she subject herself to Josh—the sight of him could possibly trigger some sort of panic attack or send her into a total catatonic state. What the hell was wrong with that girl? Was she some sort of masochist? Did she get off on this?

He gave a thoughtful frown. Well, that wouldn't exactly be bad for him, per say, if she did get off on visiting him. There was a chuckle that came from the back of his head. The tiny, but incessant voice whispered _ Yeah, right. Like that would ever happen, even if it was out of masochism. You know that she only came here today to tell you to fuck yourself because you are a prick. _

Well, he couldn't argue with that.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I take responsibility of all typos. Totally my bad. I wish I was paid to write fanfiction then I would care more about my typos. That would be the life.

"You know, Sam was really upset the other day."

The first thing that came out of her damn mouth had to be about Sam. Why did the first thing that she said to him in a week have to be about fucking Sam? Well not _fucking_ Sam, which was certainly a pleasant thought (shame on him), but about slam bam goddamn Sam. First with the whole stupid film his apologies idea, then bringing Sam here, and now she had to bring up her failed mission? He didn't remember consenting to bringing Sam here, so he would blame Dr. Big Mouth for it entirely. She certainly had to pay for this. He decided he wouldn't cooperate during this session. Oh, the man who held onto grudges. Someone should write a book titled exactly that, or maybe even an interactive video game. It would be a big hit.

He crossed his arms and sank in the chair. His chin pressed into his chest and his legs were outstretched with his feet planted firmly on the floor. Now he was pouting. "Well, sorry. Can't do much about it now."

She stared at him blankly and took a long, deep breath. "She said she would be willing to see you again. As soon as you are ready." There was almost a sarcastic tone in her voice, but Josh could be hearing things—again.

"Sure. When I'm ready."

"What are you so afraid of, Josh?"

He shrugged his shoulders the best he could considering the position he was in—his neck had completely disappeared and he was sporting a nice double chin, so there wasn't much to shrug.

"Is there a point to this session if you aren't willing to talk?" Wow! She was suddenly becoming aware of the fact that he absolutely didn't give a shit! Or maybe that is just what he told himself. No, he definitely absolutely did not care in the slightest. Why should he care? He was in the nuthouse and Sam, as well as his other not-friends hated him. His father didn't even visit and his mother only smothered him whenever she visited, so why should he care?

"Guess not, Dr. Claw. Am I free to go?" When would he stop coming up with other names for her? Probably never because he couldn't ever remember her name. He would continue to give her nicknames until the end of time. He had an endless knowledge of television and film, but he couldn't seem to manage to remember names, or even a simple apology. Go figure. That was how it worked in the mind of the man who held onto grudges.

"It's not going to be that easy to get rid of me." So maybe he wouldn't be the undoing of her sanity and she wouldn't retreat to some cabin hundreds of miles away from civilization. Guess he'd just have to try harder. "I'm going to ask you again: What are you so afraid of?"

"I'm afraid of plenty of things. Like bugs—ew. And clowns," he grinned up at her.

"Why are you afraid to see Sam?" She clarified.

He further slipped down the chair until he fell to the floor with a plop and a dramatic groan. "She'll probably hit me. I don't much like being hit. See." He gestured to his face once he rolled over onto his back. "I got a pretty face."

She looked down at him as she shook her head. Today she chose to sit away from her desk and directly in front of him. She liked to alternate and he suspected that on the tougher days she liked to assert her dominance by positioning herself in front of him. On the days that she felt vulnerable, she sat behind her desk to seem more powerful. Hey, maybe Josh should be a therapist. He was pretty good at making assumptions and therapy was based on assumptions.

"Alright, alright. I guess I've been enough of an asshole for a day. You see, the real issue is I don't know how to tell her that..." Boy, with that hopeful look in her eye, he almost didn't want to finish his sentence. It would be like he was popping some dumb kid's balloon. "...I'm pregnant and she's the father."

Dr. Kind let out a deep breath that she had inhaled through her nose. Using her breathing techniques. Good for her

"OK, fine. You may go."

He quickly stood up and marched out of the room confidently, but with each step he took, the anxiety was slowly returning. Josh had been deflecting, Dr. Hankey would say, and he certainly had been. It's just what he did. That, and he held onto grudges. Jesus Christ, would he ever be ready to see Sam? He still couldn't wrap his head around the fact that she was willing to see him, and he was just letting her down all over again. Chris guessed it right—he was a coward. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Why couldn't he just autopilot through this damn dilemma? Why couldn't he just black out and be unable to feel these stupid feelings that he was feeling right now? Wasn't there a switch or something in his mind? What gives? This model of brain was faulty. He demanded a refund from whatever creator had made him. Whether it be God or aliens, but he was banking on aliens.

_ Sam is willing to see you, you idiot. Sam. Sammy. Pull your big head out of your big ass _. Damn his own personal Jiminiy Cricket was all about tough love and a total hardass.

He had made it all of thirteen steps out of Dr. Doom's office when he turned around sharply and stormed back into the room, plopping down onto the chair. Dr. Kind jumped at the sudden intrusion—apparently she hadn't seen him come back in. "Fine. You win. I'll see Sam."

She blinked. Once. Twice. A third time. Well? Was she going to say something or just stare at him like he just whipped his dick out? He may as well have because his dick was awe inspiring and jaws would drop upon seeing it's massive size. Did he say_ would _ ? He definitely meant _ jaws have dropped _ because he has definitely had sex. He hasn't been pining after the same girl since the age of thirteen and he definitely had sex with at least fifty people because he was a goddamn sex god. Wait, who was he trying to convince again? Himself? Jiminiy Cricket? The person reading this story? The person writing this story? _ Hey, whoever you are, I am Josh Washington and I have definitely had sex and I am totally NOT lying. _

"Oh. Oh. How about... You give her a call and ask her to come in? I can dial her number right now."

He had to think for a moment to remember what the conversation was about because he had lost himself in his thoughts. He was amazed that he had gotten _ that _ lost in them and hadn't lost consciousness. These days once he fell deep enough into his thoughts, he wound up on autopilot and would come to days later. He guessed by what she was saying they were talking about Sam. No, they were definitely talking about Sam because he remembered storming back into the room and announcing that he would see her. Now she was talking about calling her right now and Josh begging her to come back.

"I said I'll see her, not beg her to come in." But she gave him a look that threw him back into the pit of guilt, and he had fucked with her enough today. He threw his hands up in the air and glared at her with wide eyes. "Fucking. Fine!"

Dr. Kind (he read her name plate which was in front of her on her desk but he imagined he would soon forget) smiled, like she knew what she was doing. Had she played him? Fuck. She played him like a goddamn flute. She quickly punched in the numbers on the phone, covering the numbers with her spare hand, careful to not let Josh see. Yeah, couldn't have Josh harassing the poor girl he was seemingly terrified of—no, not seemingly, _ definitely _ ( _ definitely _ was definitely a word he liked to use and it was probably because his makeup was 90% denial). He was only joking a little when he said he was afraid that she'd hit him.

She handed him the phone and for a moment, he just stared. Like, what the fuck was he supposed to do with that? With a deep breath, he grabbed the phone. Good, at least it was still ringing—and then suddenly it wasn't. He was utterly terrified when he heard her voice on the other end and fought the urge to slam the phone down on the receiver.

"Hey, Dr. Kind." Her voice. Oh God, her voice.

"Uh... Actually, sorry to disappoint your lesbian sexapade, but this is not Dr. Kind." He ignored the daggers the psychiatrist was shooting him, but silently reveled in the fact that he had broken her professionalism. 

There was silence on the other end for a long time and he thought she may have hung up. "Josh? God. Jesus fucking Christ." Well that's a nice welcome.

"That's what all the girls say when they're with me. Don't worry, I'm used to it." He really had to drive it home that he has _ definitely _had sex, but this time he had to say it to a real person and not just to himself.

"What the hell is your problem? I drive an hour and a half out there only to drive immediately back home because you fucking—you ran away from me, asshole!" He could just imagine that cute little furrow in her brow whenever she got mad. "After all you put me through, you ran away from me! You asked me to be there! What is wrong with you?"

This was going very well. "Uh... Look, I just wanted to know if you wanted to come back."

"What so you can run away from me again? Like some... Some... Some fucking pussy?"

Fucking ouch. He definitely deserved that, but he decided to joke anyway. "Can't make any promises."

"You better promise because I'm coming up there and if you chicken out at the last second, I swear to God—"

He definitely did not want to face the wrath of Sam. "OK! Jeez, I get it! Alright?"

"I mean it, Josh."

"I won't run away."

"Give the phone to Patricia."

"On first name basis, I see? How long has this little affair been going on, Sammy?" He could practically feel her reach through the phone and slap him. "Here she is."

Josh handed the phone to Dr. Kind. "Your lover wishes to speak with you." She hardly acknowledged his comment as she took the phone from him.

"Hello, Samantha." Ooh, Samantha. "Yeah. It's only..." She looked at the watch on her wrist. "11:30. I'm sure we can squeeze something in... Yeah, I understand that you are busy. Today will work just fine. One o'clock works..." 

The conversation was dragging on and he was only hearing one side of it. He decided he would block it out before he bored himself to death trying to eavesdrop and he closed his eyes. He could really use a nap right about now. How long had it been since he'd actually got a good night's sleep? Considering how tired he was, he guessed approximately forty years. It seems that when one's consciousness gets away from them, they don't get quality sleep or they didn't sleep at all. He didn't know the specifics, but it was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

Dr. Kind set the phone back down on the receiver and looked up at Josh. "She is skipping class to see you." She might as well add on a 'let that sink in, Josh' or a 'look at how much she cares about you.' Place your bets because Josh was taking them.

"Well that's not very responsible of her, is it?"

"She cares about you." Whoomp, there it is.

He nodded his head and looked at the clock. 11:34. A panic set in as he realized Sam would be here soon, and he would actually have to face her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All comments are appreciated and thank you for taking the time to tell me that you like this story.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day? No way. The updates will now be sporadic because I have caught up to what I have written so far.

Sam sat in front of him, glaring as he avoided making eye contact with her. No matter how long she stared at him, he was determined to not let up—really, in some aspects, the two were very similar. For example: both were incredibly headstrong, albeit on completely opposite sides of the spectrum. Sam was more of the upbeat _ get-your-lazy-ass-out-of-bed-and-let’s-go-do-something _ stubborn. Josh nowadays stood over on the other end with his brooding, near unshakable will that said _ I-am-staying-right-here-please-leave-me-to-rot _. Both were resilient, but one could only hold out for so long until the girl they loved kicked their ass into submission.

They were in a room reserved for patients to meet with family and friends, seated in what Josh considered a great injustice. These chairs were the most comfortable chairs in the entire facility and they were only reserved for guests. Apparently they had to keep up appearances that the patients were being treated properly—and the certainly were not. Not with the furniture they provided in group sessions, or that damn lumpy brown couch. He would never let go of that terrible couch, and would most likely complain about it until the day he died. He would be on his deathbed and his last words would be _ fuck that stupid couch _.

“Are you ever going to talk to me, or are you going to avoid it all together?” God, it was so nice to hear her voice, even if it was full of hostility. Other than the phone call earlier, it had been so long since she’d spoken to him. He nearly forgot what she sounded like. Josh was desperate to hear her talk more—he wished that, instead of her demanding he talked to her, she would yell and really lay it on him. It’s what he deserved of course, but anything really that would allow for him to soak in her voice. He'd spent the last hour and a half thinking of all the ways that she would hurt him once they were alone together, and this was not what he expected. There was venom in her tone, but there was also civility.

Josh leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. He still couldn’t look at her yet, but he managed to glance at her hands rested neatly on her lap. “Uh yeah. Sure. How are you, uh doing?”

She was quick with her response and it was still saturated in venom. “I’m managing.”

“Oh, right. Yeah.” Great conversation starter, Josh._ How are you? _ What kind of bullshit was that coming from a deranged psychopath who had terrorized his not-friends?

She sighed as she leaned back in the chair and the atmosphere in the room finally softened. “How are you?”

“Pretty good. This five star hotel is treating me like a king. Did you know that Gordon Ramsay actually cooks all the meals?” _ Why are you like this? _

Sam scoffed and shook her head at the wall as she crossed her arms. He saw this all out of the corner of his eye as he stared at the ground because no, he still couldn’t bear to look at her. Hell, he definitely wanted to. He wanted to stare at the galaxy of freckles on her face all day long and count each strand of blonde hair on her pretty little head, but he knew that her face would be painted with disappointment—possibly even hatred. Josh didn’t think Sam could hate anything, but if there was one thing she could hate at this point in her life, it would be him. It should be him.

“Unbelievable.” She muttered under his breath.

“Fine, I’m doing awful. Is that what you want to hear?” He wasn’t sure if he was ready for her answer.

“Actually, yeah.” He definitely wasn’t ready for that, but now that it was out in the open, it hurt way worse to know that she wanted to see him miserable. Dr. Wrongso had to be wrong. Sam probably didn’t even want to be here because she _ cared _ . She wasn’t _ willing to see him _. No, she wanted to see him crumble—she wanted to see the mess that he’d become, the shell of a monster. And he fucking deserved her hatred.

Jesus, he can’t do this. Sam hated him. She hated his fucking guts and there was nothing he could ever do to redeem himself. He should just leave, but that would make her hate him even more. Fuck, he would have to stay if only to make Sam feel better about herself, and make her feel safer knowing that he was so broken that he could never hurt her again.

He stared at his hands, his vision going out of focus as he picked at his nails—they were far too long and dirty, it actually really grossed him out, but he just needed something to do. They hadn't clipped them in a few weeks because he must have stopped digging into his skin, or so he assumed because he didn't see any fresh marks. No matter how gross it was, it was something to distract him and keep him grounded, preventing him from running out of the room.

“I mean, it doesn’t make me feel any better to know that you aren’t doing well. It should, Josh, but it doesn’t.”

He’d forgotten that he was supposed to avoid looking at her, but his head shot up in her direction when she spoke. She didn’t hate him? His throat tightened and he had to fight away the tears. It was probably a pathetic sight. When did he become such a girl? What, with all the crying and the mood swings. It was a damn good thing he didn’t say that aloud because the moment he thought it, he grew irrationally worried that Sam could read minds. If she could, she would punch him just to prove how tough girls were. He didn't know how much he cared about what she thought of him, or maybe he did. Maybe he resigned himself to the idea that she would hate him for breaking her trust and he didn't expect her to actually care about him. She didn't want him to be miserable.

“I’m really sorry.” It slipped out of his mouth without anything to follow. He had so many things to be sorry for. _ Sorry for chasing you. Sorry for terrorizing our friends. Sorry for causing what could end up being the most traumatic moment in your life. Sorry that I betrayed your trust. Sorry that I never kissed you or told you how I felt about you. _All of the above and so much more, but his words were caught in his throat, behind a tight knot.

He should have kissed her when his sisters somehow convinced him to play house. They dubbed Sam the mother and him the father in the bizzaro family of children. Hannah said that moms and dads were supposed to kiss, but he said that kissing was gross and that he was too old to play house anyway.

Honestly, he really should have kissed her when Chris yelled at them to kiss and make up. Josh had said something insensitive about how large her hands were, when they really weren't—she just had them in his face during some stupid argument about the ecosystem. He could have kissed her and it would have made it all better, but instead he just apologized and told her that she didn't have big hands—although his exact words were _ you don't have giant hands, you have dwarf hands, _which prompted a swift kick to the shin.

“That means a lot, Josh.” And there was no sarcasm or cynicism behind the statement. She really did mean it.

He blinked away the tears before he let out a loud sigh and flew back in the chair, his back hitting the cushion. If it were the chairs from those stupid group sessions, he would surely be aching. Thank god for these cushioned chairs reserved for visitors only. No, he wasn’t going to let that go of that one either. His second to last statement on his deathbed would be _ fuck the chairs in group therapy _.

“Why are you here?”

She looked at him like he was absolutely crazy and well, he was, but really why was she here? “Because I care about you?”

“But why?” His voice cracked in his outburst. She flinched and he immediately regretted raising his voice. He swallowed hard. He hadn't realized how loud it was until there was ringing in his ears by the sudden silence that took over after he shouted. His jaw hurt so much from clenching it to swallow the overwhelming amount of spit in his mouth. He must have been doing it all day for it to hurt, and it annoyed him that he was doing it a lot more at that moment.

“I always have. You are Hannah and Beth’s older brother, and you might as well be mine. Of course I care about you.” Friend zoned? Nah, that’s old news. Doesn’t get any worse than Like-a-Brother zoned. Although, it’s not like he would have made a move anyway—actually, after his prank, he didn’t stand a chance at all.

They were silent for a moment, but it felt like a damn eternity. He wanted to keep telling her over and over about how sorry he was. He wanted to make excuses for himself— tell her that he was off his meds because they weren't working. That he had been misdiagnosed. He wanted to tell her that she meant everything to him and that he loved her since they were kids. He wanted to tell her that he appreciated her for spending time with him after Hannah and Beth's disappearance. He wanted to tell her that he wished he had told her about his hallucinations and hadn't pushed her away towards the end. He wanted to tell her that she meant everything to him and that he’s loved her since before the dawn of time. If he decided to say that, she would only laugh and tell him to fuck off right into the Sun. He would find that to be a perfectly acceptable answer so long as he got to hear her laugh again.

How long had it been since she last laughed? How long had it been since her smile reached her eyes? How many nightmares has she had since that night? Did she still talk to animals? Was she still active in animal rights? Did she still want to travel the world? Was she ever going to feel normal again?

“How are your grades?” That was what he decided to say? Josh Washington, the master of romance.

Sam shrugged. “Declining.”

“You need to study more.”

“Thanks, Washington. Superb advice coming from a dropout.”

“That's very insensitive of you to say. Even lunatics have feelings, you know”

She laughed, and it wasn’t much. It didn’t quite come from her stomach, but more so the shallows of her lungs. Still, it was a laugh and he would take it. Christ, when did he become such a sap?

“You know how great it is to hear you laugh?” What a fucking sap. It came tumbling out of his mouth before he could check himself_ . _

“You missed my laugh?”

“I miss laughs in general. This place is fresh out.” Good save.

Sam cleared her throat and there was a pink tint in her cheeks. "I told Chris I was coming here. I think he wants to see you too."

  
"He said that?"

  
She gave a sympathetic smile and shook her head. "Well, not exactly, but I think he would be willing to see you."

"I'll take what I can get, I guess."

“Hey, Josh, can you do me a favor?”

Yes. Yes, anything for her. Whatever she wanted. He couldn't think of anything he wouldn't do for her. He’d swim the entire Pacific Ocean if she asked him to. “Of course.”

“Can you try harder? To get better, I mean.” She said it like he was already trying, which was not true. He wasn't trying at all. Before now, he didn't really have a reason to. 

“Yeah. I'll try harder, Sammy.”

She rolled her eyes at the nickname. “Don't you think I am a little too old for that?”

“No, I still see that awkward little tween whenever I look at you.”

“Ugh. Shut up. Seriously, though. Get better. Come home.”

_ Home _. It seemed so unreachable before now. The concept of going home had been gradually slipping away from him with each day that passed. How long had he been here again? He could hardly remember what month it was.

“What’s the date?” He would by coy about this, and give off the vibe that he hadn’t completely lost track of time. He'd pretend like he had future plans—something like a really important appointment that he couldn't miss. Can't have Sam knowing exactly how crazy he was or what his meds were doing to him.

“The seventeenth.”

Josh winced at her answer and forced himself to ask her what month it was. She furrowed her brow and stared at him for a moment before telling him it was November.

That certainly put him in a doozy. He knew he'd been in the institution for a while, but he didn't think it had been_ that _ long. Nine months was a long time—no wonder going home seemed like such an unrealistic goal.

“What month did you think it was?”

He thought back to when he'd asked the nurse what the date was. She said May, and he could recall caring enough to ask anyone again. “Somewhere around May.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“It's the meds. Sometimes I black out.”

"_ Sometimes? _"

"OK, a lot of the time."

“Maybe you should talk to them about switching to a different medication.”

“These ones help enough.”

She gave him some sort of look. Not a good one, either. Oh, right. He was supposed to be trying. “I like that I don't have to face myself or the consequences of my actions, but I'll talk to Doctor Strange about it next time I see her.”

“Good. You better because I am going to check up on you the moment I have time. I have exams coming up, so with all the studying and panicking, I have no clue when I'll be back up here.” 

"You are coming back?" He swallowed again and tried to hide how surprised he was.

"Yes, Josh. I care about you, remember? What's up with your mouth? You have been doing it the whole time I have been here."

He instinctively did it again upon her pointing it out. "It's another side effect."

"Please talk to Patricia." She rolled her eyes when he waggled his eyebrows and stood up, folding her jacket over her forearm. “I have to head back though. I already skipped one class today, I can't skip another. Please try harder and figure out a way to apologize to our friends, Josh."

"I am calling them my _ not-friends _ . You know, I made a video—"

  
Her eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. "I don't want to hear about the video. You need to get better and come home, OK? Tell everyone that you are sorry, whether they care to hear it or not."

  
"I know, but my video—"

"Enough about videos! Do you think I want to hear about your videos after what happened? You filmed us, Josh. Filmed. Us. While you terrorized us!"

He swallowed and nodded his head. "Yeah, that's what I thought would be the reaction. Jeez, what a stupid idea."

Sam stared at him for a while. "Of course it was a stupid idea. What did you think you'd get out of us? Think we'd laugh and forget about it?" Unfortunately that was what he originally thought would happen, but when she was done ripping him a new asshole, he would tell her that wasn't what he was talking about.

"Originally, yeah. Remember, Sam. I'm crazy. I don't think rationally, but that isn't what I'm talking about. I'm not talking about the fucked up video—I'm talking about the apology video."

Sam tilted her head and squinted her eyes. Skepticism was written all over her face. "What apology video?"

Josh rolled his head until it fell back onto the chair. Damn, these chairs were really comfortable. "Dr. Cyanide and Happiness came up with the twisted idea for me to make a good thing out of a bad thing. Said we should film an apology since I was having a hard time writing it out. We didn't finish it though because—" He paused before he finished with a lie. Couldn't really tell her that he couldn't finish the video because of her. "I realized it wouldn't really be a good idea."

Sam frowned thoughtfully and nodded her head slowly after a long moment. "You know what? I think you should finish it."

He only nodded his head and suddenly he was on board with the idea once more. It's not like he really had a choice when Sam was involved. 

"I have to go."

"Thanks for coming, Sammy."

She opened her mouth as if she were about to say something. She didn't say anything. Josh thought for a moment, with how she moved her arms, that she might hug him. She did not. _ One step at a time, Josh. What’d you expect? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jessica will appear in the next chapter. Stay tuned.


	7. Chapter 7

Weeks passed since he'd last heard from Sam. He resigned to the fact that he would never see her again after the first week. Josh suddenly missed the jumps in time because even though he had given up hope, her absence stung. Why had he made a promise to change his medication when he knew deep down she would never come back? He was just a hopeful idiot. 

On top of the torture of trying out new medication and no longer being able to autopilot through life, he got an earful from the skeleton man, whose name turned out to be Dr. Robert Staph, but Josh had grown attached to the nickname he had given his psychiatrist. He was upset (he may have been a little more than upset) that Josh didn't tell him about the blackouts sooner, but he was quick to prescribe a new drug: _ Clozapine _. Side effects include itching or hives, swelling of the face, a pleasant blistering and sometimes peeling rash, increased irritation, seizures, not being able to shit, fevers, weight gain, and excessive drooling. But it would help him get better, right? At least he wasn't doing the awkward mouth thing anymore and his jaw didn't hurt.

He hadn't realized how truly terrible the group sessions were until he was forced to sit through one without a single black out. Before he thought they were unbearable, but what a naive little pilgrim he had been. 

“Alright everyone. We are going to talk about coping skills.” Nurse Ratched’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard and he felt a violent twitch in the side of his face. “Does anyone have any healthy coping skills that they would like to share with the group?”

She might as well have told Josh to fuck off with the look she gave him when he rose his hand. It would have been a well deserved _ fuck off _ too. “Mine involves lotion and my right hand.”

“I suppose masturbating could be considered a healthy coping skill, if used in moderation.” Was that a jab? It certainly felt like a jab, but he just grinned and let her continue on with the group session with minor interruptions.

It wasn't just the group therapy sessions either. He was painfully aware of everything now. The ticking of the clock on the wall, the scuffing of feet on the linoleum floor, the guy in the corner who was constantly clearing his throat no matter how hard Josh glared at him. He tried to glare that guy into oblivion, but it obviously didn't work because the guy kept doing it (was his facial tic as annoying as that?) It was all there and it was all terrible.

By the second week, he was angry that Sam hadn't visited him. Surely, even with all the studying, she could have spared some time to see him. Or was that selfish of him to think? She said that her grades were on a downward slope, so perhaps she really did need to study. _ No, no, no. _ She hated him and she was never coming back. Why had she bothered in the first place? He was bitter and hoped she scraped her knee getting out of that shitty car of hers or got a papercut from all that studying. He changed his meds and finished the apology video for her. This was how she repaid him?

“I don't think she is coming back,” he said at his next session with Dr. Kind.

“Perhaps not. How does that make you feel?”

He blinked rapidly as he rolled his eyes so hard that he was nearly sent into an alternate dimension where he starred in a fanfiction. “These meds are making me aware of how annoying you are. I don't know how it makes me feel. It's her choice. Whatever.”

Dr. Kind ignored his insult, but did press on the medication matter. “Would you say the Clozapine has increased your irritability?”

“I don't know. I think I'm just more alert, or something. Like, everyone here talks too softly. They all treat me like I am crazy or going to blow up, and I just want them to talk to me like I am a human being.”

“That is understandable.”

Josh slapped his hand against his face and pulled down on his cheek. “That is exactly what I am talking about! Don't tell me it's understandable. Tell me that I am batshit crazy because I know that is what you are thinking!”

“You need to calm down.”

“And Sam! She should have told me to fuck off! She should have come in here and kicked my ass, but no! What the hell is her problem anyway?” Perhaps he hadn't quite accepted the fact that she wasn't coming back. “You can't just give someone hope that they will have something normal in their life and rip it away!”

“I think we will give it another week with Clozapine, but Dr. Staph may have to find something else if you continue to experience this level of irritation.”

Josh ran his hands through his hair and leaned forward. “OK. Whatever. Can I go?”

Dr. Kind shrugged and Josh took that as a _ I guess I can't stop you. _He got up and headed toward the door. As he reached for the handle, Dr. Kind decided to speak up. "The video was approved and I sent out copies this past Monday."

“Fucking fantastic.” He opened the door and left.

Sam finally showed up on day twenty-one. She apologized profusely and Josh shrugged her off, telling her it was no big deal. This was a lie and Sam knew it. She always knew when he was lying. “Did you talk to Dr. Kind about your meds?” She asked when the silence became too overbearing for her.

“Yeah. The skeleton man who is posing as my psychiatrist might switch them again because they are making me feistier than a cougar in a kiddie pool.”

Sam scowled in disgust, but was quick to recover. “It's good that you are making progress, at least.”

“Yeah, I guess. Speaking of progress, how did your exams go? Did all that studying help you?” He couldn't help the bitterness in his voice.

“I passed all of my classes, at least.” She said quietly. “Look, Josh… I'm sorry that I didn't come by. A lot of things got in the way.”

Bullshit. “I just figured you didn't want to visit me.”

The look on her face definitely did not make him feel any better and when she changed the subject, he felt even worse. “I've been trying to convince Chris to come with me.”

“Let me guess—that didn't go over too well.”

“I think I'm wearing him down.”

Josh crossed his arms and held himself tightly, avoiding her gaze completely. He gritted his teeth and jutted out his jaw. “Don't bother. My best not-friend doesn't want to see me—I don't even know why you are here. You don't want to be here.”

“Yeah. You are right. I don't want to be here. This place gives me the creeps, but knock it off with the pity party.” She sighed. “I am really sorry. I put off coming here because I am still trying to process everything that happened that night.”

“Alright. Whatever you need to do. I'll just… You know, be here. Can't go anywhere.”

“Fuck you.”

“Only if you're up for an audience, Sammy.” He said pointing to the window in door.

Sam rolled her eyes before scowling at him. “You did a messed up thing, Josh, and you are paying the price.” She certainly had him there, but he was painfully sentient and boy, were these meds doing a number on his patience.

“Yeah. I know.”

Silence.

“I got your video. If I got it, that means our friends got it, or will get it soon."

He scoffed. “They are _ your _ friends and my _ not-friends _."

"Whatever you say. I watched the video."

"Were you moved? Is that why you are here?” If looks could kill, he would die happily (because it was Sam and she was beautiful), albeit slightly irritated (because it was Sam and she was annoying). 

“Would you shut up?” He opened his mouth and she held up a finger. “Shut up. Just shut up!” He closed his mouth. “You don't get to be mad. _ I _get to be mad!'

Josh frowned, suddenly aware of how much of a twat he was being. She was right. She was always right. If autopilot was bad, irritability was worse because he was pissing Sam off and he didn't want to piss her off. He was angry with her and he had no right to be. She said she was busy, she told him she didn't know when she could come back, and above all else, she had no obligation to be there after what he had done to her and his not-friends.

“We had a connection, Josh. You… You put a camera in the bathroom. You chased me around and I thought I was going to die. I thought you were going to kill me and when I actually found out it was you—_ You _don't get to be mad.” She stood up and quickly threw on her coat. “I am trying to help you the best I can while helping myself and you are just being an ass.”

He looked down at his hands that were clasped together. She was right. She was always right. "I am sorry."

Sam sighed and it was a while before she spoke. Her tone gentle when she did. "I watched the video. Josh, did you really blame me for what happened?"

Josh looked up at her. Her brows were furrowed and she looked as if she was expecting to be hurt by his response. "I use to."

"I know what you said in the video, but I want to hear it from you right now."

"Dr. Kind suggested that I blamed myself and used you as an outlet. It made sense. I was struggling with my, uh, mental shit and I drank the voices away. I couldn't help them or prevent it from happening. I blamed you because I thought you could have done more to stop it from happening. That's why I did what I did."

He looked back down at his hands and played with the wrinkles in his knuckles. He couldn't handle looking at her for too long because the longer he looked at her, the more the guilt ate away at him. Maybe she was just here for an explanation and an apology. Maybe once she got those things from him, she would walk out and never come back. He couldn't watch that. He couldn't bear to watch her walk out of his life, so he would hide himself in the wrinkles of his knuckles.

"I forgive you."

The words didn't register at first and then suddenly they were bouncing around in his skull. He wasn't expecting her to forgive him. Sure, she admitted that she cared about him, but that didn't mean she would forgive him. Really, though, why was he so surprised? This was Sam. She was one of the most forgiving people he had ever met and would forgive anyone as long as they didn't kill puppies. She forgave Josh when he got too drunk to pick her up from her track meet (_Really, Josh? It's only 6PM._) She forgave him every time he went out of his way to embarrass her, even the times he went too far (_You are a real jerk sometimes Josh._) She forgave him each time he jumped out from a hiding spot to scare her, no matter how elaborate he got with his spooks over the years (_Are you still thirteen? Aren't you getting bored of this?_) She forgave him after she caught him reading her diary (_I don't care that I left it out and it tempted you! There are things I don_'_t want you to see!_) These were all petty things, however, but she did forgive Mike and the other not-friends that were involved in the prank on Hannah, and that resulted in their deaths. Why wouldn't she forgive him?

"Are you going to say something?" She laughed nervously.

"I don't know why you would forgive me. I did a really messed up thing."

"Yeah, you did, but I can move past it."

"How?"

"There were worse things that happened that night." There was a pained expression on her face and Josh could tell she was recalling a memory. It looked like a painful memory.

"Something worse than me? That's surprising." He said it to lighten the mood, but he was also curious.

"I have to go, but I will see you next Thursday. I promise."

Josh watched as she stood from her chair and his eyes trailed down to her stomach that was peeking out of her shirt that was riding up. "Next week? What did I do to deserve weekly visits, Sammy?"

She rolled her eyes and pulled down her shirt. "I wasn't there for you when you needed me most. I am hoping this time it will be different."

"Thank you, Sam."

"Talk to your psychiatrist about your meds."

Josh stormed into the skeleton man's office after Sam left and fell face down onto the beige velvet couch in the corner. After a long groan he turned his head and spoke. “These drugs aren’t cuttin’ it for me, Doc.”

“I appreciate you coming to me right away.” It didn't sound like he appreciated it. “We will try something different. How did your meeting with Sam go?”

Josh groaned again and flipped over on his back. He threw a hand up in the air to emphasize his groan. “Do you think I am here because I like seeing you? No, it didn't go well at all. I was the grouch from hell and you just need to change my meds. Can you do that or not?”

“Yes. We will give risperidone a go and see how that works for you.” Skeleton man pulled out his prescription pad and began writing.

“Will those pills make my hips look fat?”

“Weight gain is a possible side effect.” He held out the prescription and Josh quickly rose from the couch to grab, or rather snatch it. "Make sure to stand up slowly because this medication can cause dizziness."

“Yeah, yeah. I'll keep that in mind. Thanks, Skeletor."

The irritation was gone immediately and was soon replaced by an overall feeling of average. He wasn't happy, but he wasn't miserable. He was simply content about existing and he decided that this was going to be as good as it would get. He wasn't having any visual or auditory hallucinations and the dizziness was manageable. It took some getting used to standing up slowly and sometimes he forgot to do so. Other times he would be extremely lightheaded when just moving his body too quickly in bed and felt like the room was spinning even when he closed his eyes. He promised Sam on Thursday that he would talk to skeleton man about it, but the guy said the side effects weren't severe.

The day he fainted was the day he saw Jessica standing in the recreational room. He must have moved too fast when standing up and he took a few steps toward the direction of his room before his vision went from static to black. There was a terrible metallic taste in his mouth, but he could still hear what was going on around him. He bumped into a table and collapsed on the ground with a heavy thud. Jessica's voice, along with many others rang loud in his ears. His goal of getting past her without detection was futile and shit, she was probably going to think that he fainted because of her. Well, he did, indirectly, faint because of her due to him being a coward who runs away, but he did not faint upon seeing her. It wouldn't stop it from going to her head. She was probably thinking _ Josh fainted because he couldn't handle how hot I am _and would wear it as a badge of honor.

When his vision came back, he sat up to discover that he was surrounded by nurses and Jessica was standing behind them. Her hair was a mess and she wasn't wearing her usual layers of makeup. She looked like she has either slept too much or not at all in the past ten months. She also looked concerned and the concern was justified because Josh must have hit his head in his tumble. He rubbed his head and winced when he touched a big bump in the middle of his forehead. He was a goddamn unicorn. The nurses were asking him questions and he was doing his best to answer them, explaining that he had moved too quickly. He was grateful that a nurse took him away to the exam room to check him out and on his way out he noticed that Jessica had a suitcase in her hands. The more he thought about it, he wondered why she would be in the recreational room if she was just a guest and she couldn't be his guest because she wasn't on his list. This meant that she had to be a patient, and if this was true, Josh wouldn't be able to avoid her. Fucking A. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the ableist language. There is also mention of an overdose in this chapter.

He really did try to avoid her, he really did. The first time she walked up to him, he realized that he simply couldn’t handle being around her and walked away in the middle of her greeting. Seeing Sam he could handle, but Jess? Not so much, which was rather surprising. He spent the entire day in his room and refused to attend any of the activities. Josh even managed to skip group therapy and to his surprise no one barged into his room to drag him to the session. Upon discovering that he never actually had to go to group therapy, he kicked himself in the ass for subjecting himself to the cursed circle (seriously, what a dumb word.) He had skipped both breakfast and lunch, but by the time dinner rolled around, the proper authorities seemed to realize that they hadn’t seen him all day and they were rather forceful with getting him to attend dinner. Nevermind the fact that they simply asked him if he was hungry and his stomach let out a loud rumble at the mere mention of eating; he would argue that they carried him off while he fought them, kicking and screaming.

When he entered the dining hall, his fellow inmates were all eating and his eyes were immediately drawn to Jess who was poking at her food with her plastic fork. Her hair had been thrown into a wild and disheveled bun, and now that it was pulled up, Josh noticed clumps of matted hair that were probably too far gone to untangle. It was the most depressing thing he had ever seen. If you were too look up _ super depressing _ in urban dictionary, you would see a picture Jessica Riley in a pair of dirty sweats, a baggy PINK sweater, and matted hair while prodding a piece of overcooked chicken. She looked up at him and he couldn’t find it in himself to look away from the trainwreck. She looked in an even worse state than him and that was saying something.

He was finally able to tear his eyes away from her to gather his food and he sat down at a table on the opposite side of the room as her. He was only a single bite into his dry chicken when he realized that he’d lost his appetite. How on earth could he eat guilt free when Jessica was prodding at her food like that? He looked up from his food and glared at the back of her head. How dare she look so depressing in his presence. He would _ not _ be guilted into sitting with her and striking up a conversation. No sir, he would _ not! _ Wait, what was he doing? Why was he standing and picking up his plate? Where were his legs taking him? He would _ not _ give into his conscience! He tried to fight it, he really did. Well, not really, he kept walking until he was standing beside her and she looked up at him. He couldn’t turn back now and he sat down in the chair next to her. 

“Are you done avoiding me?” She asked, looking back down at her food. God, even how she spoke was depressing. There was no inflection to her voice, just a monotonous drone.

“What? Me? Avoiding you? Where would you get that idea?” Smooth, Josh.

She didn’t speak and continued to rearrange her food on the plate, so Josh watched until he couldn’t anymore. “I think it’s dead and safe to eat. I mean, it’s dry, but still edible somewhat.”

She still didn’t say anything, so he spoke again. How could he possibly eat when she was still being so depressing? “I can’t eat with you being like this.”

“I didn’t ask you to sit with me. Go eat somewhere else if it’s bothering you.”

“See, that’s the thing. I couldn’t even eat when I was sitting across the room from you. You’re stinking up the whole room with your awful vibe.”

“You know, I thought this place could help me because from your video, it looked like it helped you. Obviously I was wrong and you are still a jerk.” It hurt even worse coming out in a monotone. It was like Steven Wright was calling him a jerk, but worse, and it would hurt pretty bad if his favorite comedian called him a jerk. 

“You watched the video?”

“Are you surprised?”

He was. He was absolutely surprised. He was surprised that Sam watched it, just as he was surprised that she would even agree to see him, but he didn’t think anyone else would bother with it. Josh was sure they would just throw it out without watching it, and now here Jess was. She came to the facility because she watched his video. Wait, she said that she thought the hospital could help her. What could she need help with? Clearly, she wasn’t as bubbly as she once was and she was super depressing now, but Josh didn’t really know what happened to her that night. All he knew was that Mike thought he’d killed her and then he found after he’d been rescued from the mines that she hadn’t actually died.

He tried to tell himself that he didn’t care, but he gave up on lying to himself. He didn’t want to care because caring meant that he would get hurt, but he did. He cared so much about his not-friends. “What happened to you?”

Jess laughed weakly and shook her head. God, even her laugh was depressing now. “Monsters are real, Josh. That’s what happened to me.”

He was the monster, but he hadn’t actually done anything to her. He didn’t remember a lot about that night, but he knew he didn’t do anything to her. Sam said that something else other than his prank happened that night, but she refused to talk about it when he asked during her most recent visit. She told him that if he didn’t remember, it was better if he didn’t know. He thought it was bullshit. Who else was on that mountain that night?

“I don’t really know how to interpret that.”

“Wendigos. Who knew, right?”

“I really don’t know how to interpret that either.”

“Why do you get to forget? Why do you get to forget almost dying and I can’t sleep at night because of the nightmares? Why do I get labeled as suicidal because I accidentally overdosed on sleeping pills because I just wanted to sleep? Why do you get to forget? How is that fair?”

“I’m really lost, here. You overdosed?”

Jess gave him another weak laugh. “Yeah I did. You know, Sam told me not to tell you, but I think that’s bullshit.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about, but I agree wholeheartedly.”

“Wendigos are real. They are monsters. Monsters are fucking real. I was taken from the cabin and I thought I was going to die. They eat people, Josh. _ People _ . I learned after that night that they were people once, and that they become monsters from eating people. _ People _ , Josh. _ People. _”

Josh stared at her as she waved the plastic fork in her hand each time she said the word _ people _and he wondered how she hadn’t been admitted at the same time as him. How on earth had she been allowed to have these delusions for this long and not been thrown into the nuthouse? Why was Sam entertaining her delusions? This girl had clearly had a psychotic break. The expression on his face must have shown what he was thinking because she scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“Why do you get to forget?” He didn’t think her voice could get more deflated, but he’d been wrong before. She went back to prodding her food.

“I’m sure it was very real to you.” He was trying to defuse her frustration with him by channeling his inner Dr. Kind. She would be very proud of him for caring so much about his not-friend’s feelings.

“It wasn’t just real to me. It was real for everyone. Even you. Mike told me that one of them dragged you off too.” She stabbed her chicken forcefully. “But you are the one who gets to forget it.”

Josh didn’t remember how he got into the mines. After his not-friends brought him to the shed, everything was a blur because the psychosis brought on by his illness had built up even more from his lack of sleep. He spent months preparing the prank, but those last three days of preparation he hadn’t slept a wink. Once he’d revealed his prank to everyone, he let go of any concentration he’d had left. This was explained to him by the skeleton man and he told Josh that memory loss was common with people who shared his mental illness. That, coupled with a severe lack of sleep, it was a wonder how he’d even managed to pull of the prank. It would have been great if he could have forgotten that entire night, but of course, he had to face his actions with a complete recollection. Thanks for that, God. Or aliens. He was still banking on aliens being his creators.

“Everyone tells me that I must have untied myself and wandered into the mines.”

“You _ were _taken. I was taken!” The room grew quiet by her outburst, but she didn’t seem to care. It was the first time he’d heard emotion in her voice since she’d arrived to the institution. “I’m not fucking crazy, Josh. I’m not you.”

After all the times he’d called himself insane, one would think that it wouldn’t hurt when someone else did it, but it really stung. Maybe he should stop calling himself crazy if it hurt that bad when someone else called him it, but he really deserved it. “Really? It feels like I’m looking in a mirror. Thanks, Jess.”

Jess softened. “I’m sorry. That was mean.”

“When haven’t you been a mean girl? It’s etched in your bones that you must be mean.”

“Do you really mean it?”

“Yes, the world would stop if you weren’t a mean girl.”

“No, idiot. I meant the apology. Are you really sorry?”

Oh, that. “Yeah. I really am.”

Jess’ eyes narrowed on him as she studied his face. He felt like he was being analyzed by Dr. Kind with how Jess tried to read his mind. He gave her the most sincere face he could manage and it seemed to work because she relaxed as she smiled. It was a really pathetic smile and didn’t quite captivate the positive emotion that it should have.

“I accept your apology and hope that you will accept mine.”

“What?”

Jess did manage to capture a somber expression quite well. “I was the one who came up with the prank on Hannah. I didn’t think she would fall for it, and honestly it was kind of terrible of her to be so willing to sleep with Mike. I mean, he was dating Emily at the time, but that doesn’t make what we did to her OK. I am really sorry for my part in hurting Hannah and Beth.”

Josh didn’t realize that this was exactly what he needed to hear until it came pouring awkwardly out of her mouth. He knew he was angry with his not-friends and he knew he was still harboring a grudge; even after his prank, even after he finished the apology video. The grudge was immediately erased the moment she apologized and admitted her dirty work, even if she made a rude comment about Hannah.

“I,uh… I didn’t think I would ever say this to any of my not-friends, but I forgive you.”

“I was wondering about that. You calling us not-friends. You said it in the video.”

“Yeah, I mean you guys aren’t my friends anymore, so I have to call you something and mortal enemies seems too dramatic.”

“How about you call me your friend? I think after our apologies, our friendship has been restored.”

Josh grinned and his chest felt like a weight had been lifted. “Yeah, I can do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mike will be in the next chapter!


End file.
